The Sound of Flight

Beyond a fine facade of cloud,

Her spirit struts across the air.

In welkin's eviternal shroud,

She wears her hopes upon her hair

Like jewels that sultry visions bring

Of foreign skies where wishes wing.


A chain of prayers adorns a chest

That fortune's fickle rays have scarred.

It shimmers through with futures blessed

By shifty strands of vague regard.

Below it rests a painted clasp

Of hues that wait before her grasp.


A brace of metal hugs her wrist.

It bears a gem upon its face

That twinkles with each moment's twist

To gird for time's mechanic pace.

The formless tricks of fate's reveal

Reflect within its fluid steel.


No sooth assaults her free delight.

It's lost amid the sound of flight.

Copyright © 2011, Jaymes Buckman and David Aaron Cohen. All rights reserved. In a good way.